Holy light envelops the world.

Legend has it that this was the first divine decree issued by the Almighty at the founding of the Church. In the turbulent years of war, the first Pope recited these words as he held aloft the faintly glowing sacred light, allowing it to ascend into the night sky during humanity's darkest hour.

In the millennium since its establishment, the Church has grown from a humble charity in the eyes of the masses into a colossus that dominates the continent. Three centuries ago, the Horian Kingdom was founded around the Holy See, becoming the mightiest nation on the landmass. Though the kingdom has a royal family, everyone knows they are mere marionettes dancing to the Church's tune, forever prostrating themselves at the feet of the divine.

It can be said that every child born in this realm is a subject of the Almighty. From their baptism at a hundred days old, to their wedding vows, to their funeral rites, the will of the divine permeates it all. This is how the Church maintains its iron grip on every aspect of a person's life.

None disbelieve the will of the Almighty, and none defy the authority of the Church.

And as the first divine decree, "Holy light envelops the world" is engraved in every nook and cranny of every chapel.

As the only cathedral in Haivenwright, capital of the Horian Kingdom and the beating heart of the Church, St. Peter's Cathedral is naturally no exception.

At this moment, Benjamin sat in one of St. Peter's confessionals, gazing at those words etched into the wall.

"Holy light envelops the world."

Of course, he wasn't here to confess. As a budding mage, he was already, in the Church's eyes, a lost soul seduced by demons, a defective product forsaken by the Almighty. Confession held no meaning for the likes of him.

He was here to see the Archbishop.

To the common folk, the Archbishop of St. Peter's was merely the administrator of daily church affairs. But in truth, he was also tasked with hunting down and purging heretics, commanding the Church's most elite force - the "Cleansers".

Benjamin wanted to have a little chat with him about Michelle.

Not to rat her out to the Church, and certainly not to help them catch her. Frankly, Benjamin couldn't give a toss about Michelle's fate at this point. As a newly minted mage, his top priority was to increase his own power.

How did mages make themselves stronger?

Neither Benjamin nor the AI had the foggiest idea. If he wanted to uncover the mysteries of magic, his only leads were Michelle or the Church.

There was no way he'd throw himself at Michelle's feet, so the Church was his best bet for now.

The Church undoubtedly had extensive records on mages, though they certainly wouldn't hand them over to the likes of him. His reason for coming here was to pump the Archbishop for information on Michelle's whereabouts and the places she'd holed up.

He still remembered Annie's last words before she bit the dust: "Michelle, under the third tree at the old place, I buried all my treasures there. Don't forget to dig them up." Though those two broads had schemed and deceived each other, he had a gut feeling that Annie's final declaration was on the level.

He wanted to find the places Michelle had camped out, to locate this "old place" they yammered about.

Annie's "treasures" were bound to include plenty of magical goodies. He wanted to take advantage of Michelle still keeping her head down to find where they'd stayed, to unearth Annie's stash from beneath that "third tree" before Michelle could get her mitts on it.

This was why Benjamin had hauled himself to the cathedral. Though Annie's words might have been a load of bollocks, and the odds of getting a lead on Michelle from the Archbishop were slim to none, he still had to take a crack at it. If this method went tits up, he could always find another way.

He was the sort of bloke who couldn't help but chase even the faintest glimmer of hope. Otherwise, that lingering possibility would rattle around his skull, robbing him of peace.

He wasn't afraid of the Church catching wise. His memories had already been picked clean by the "Cleansers", so they surely had no reason to be leery of him. How could they possibly suss out that he had two sets of memories, from before and after his transmigration?

"Lord Lither."

Suddenly, a deep voice cut through Benjamin's wool-gathering.

Benjamin snapped out of his reverie and turned his head. Through the gauzy curtain dividing the confessional, he could just make out a hook-nosed middle-aged man who had plonked himself down on the other side.

"Your Grace," he hurriedly greeted the man with utmost respect.

He was tempted to use the water elemental sensing technique he'd cottoned on to during his encounter with the assassin to get a read on the Archbishop. But remembering he was in a church, and that these blokes likely had a few wonky divine tricks up their sleeves, he decided to play it safe and kept himself in check.

"I am no Archbishop, merely a priest willing to lend an ear to the confessions of the flock, to pass on the Almighty's mercy and grace to every penitent soul." The other man's voice held an almost inhuman tranquility, as if he had binned even his own humanity. "You say you have information about a demonic apostle to report to the Lord, correct?"

These religious types always nattered on in such a roundabout way. Benjamin couldn't help but grouse internally.

But he naturally kept that to himself, instead laying it on thick with the deference. "Yes, that's right."

Stolen story; please report.

The Archbishop paused for a moment, then said slowly, "So, the demonic apostle who slapped a curse on you has begun to reach out?"

Hearing this, Benjamin furrowed his brow.

Slapped a curse?

The Archbishop's casual remark filled him with confusion, instantly derailing his train of thought from Annie's belongings. Though the other man's wording was a bit naff, the meaning was clear as day: Benjamin had been cursed by some bugger.

What in the bloody hell was going on? Had he missed some crucial plot point?

Benjamin suddenly had a very bad feeling about this.

"Oh right, knew I forgot something," the AI chimed in, providing an explanation with its usual impeccable timing. "Before Michelle scarpered, she chanted some dead complicated spell at you, then a dark red light flew smack into your chest. I hadn't the foggiest what it was at the time, but based on what his holiness just said, it was probably that curse he mentioned."

"…"

Once again, Benjamin felt utterly exasperated at being blindsided by the AI.

He was tempted to snap "Why the hell didn't you mention this sooner?", but he'd uttered those words so many times before to no avail. The AI would glitch out whenever it damn well pleased. At this point, Benjamin couldn't even be bothered to get angry anymore. He just had a feeling of "Yep, typical."

Besides, now wasn't the time to bicker with the AI.

A curse, huh…

Just as he'd suspected, Michelle wouldn't let him off the hook that easily. He'd found her uncharacteristic generosity deeply puzzling from the start, but now, it all made sense. Michelle hadn't given up. She was like a venomous serpent, merely lying low in the shadows, patiently awaiting the moment to strike a lethal blow.

Her intentions were crystal clear. She planned to use this curse to blackmail him, to force him to do her bidding and help her raid the Lither family vault. With his life on the line, the cursed Benjamin would have no choice but to be Michelle's errand boy.

The nerve of that woman, haunting him like a bad penny!

However, Benjamin quickly snapped out of his irritation. In retrospect, learning about the curse from the Archbishop was actually a stroke of luck. The later he found out, the worse his situation would've been.

With that in mind, he glanced at the Archbishop's hazy silhouette on the other side of the partition, a plan already taking shape.

Composing himself, he adopted a tone of sheer panic and began his performance for the Archbishop:

"Yes, Your Grace, please, you must help me! This very morning, in my own bedchamber, I discovered a letter from that witch. It said… it said… Dear God! Your Grace, she claimed this curse would be the death of me. I beg of you, please save me!"

Benjamin felt his impromptu acting chops were rather impressive. The Archbishop seemed to harbor not a shred of doubt.

"Fear not, the Almighty shall shelter you," the Archbishop intoned, as unruffled as ever. "Take a deep breath, then tell me slowly: what else was written in that letter? The Lord shall hearken unto your words."

Benjamin followed the Archbishop's instructions, taking a deep breath before continuing his act: "The letter… it merely informed me that I'd been cursed, and commanded me to await further instructions lest I meet a grisly end. Then… then it said nothing more of substance. Your Grace, I don't want to die by her hand. I implore you, please save me!"

The Archbishop remained unmoved by Benjamin's "frantic" pleas. After a moment's contemplation, he inquired, "And the letter itself? Did you bring it with you?"

Benjamin had anticipated this. "No. After I finished reading it, the letter abruptly burst into flames, not even leaving a speck of ash behind. It nearly singed my fingertips. Truly terrifying."

The Archbishop lapsed into silence, seemingly finding the situation rather thorny himself.

Benjamin observed the Archbishop for a bit. Feeling he had laid sufficient groundwork, he finally revealed the ultimate aim of his entire performance:

"Your Grace, the Almighty's power knows no bounds. Might I beseech the Lord to lift this wicked curse from me?"

Though a mere curse had him at his wit's end, he knew the Church must have the means to break it. Not only that, but as the guardian of the common folk, the Church was duty-bound to free him from this curse. Failing to do so would surely damage its credibility.

As long as the Church lifted the curse, all his problems would be solved.

A piddling curse was all it took to make him dance to her tune? In your dreams, Michelle!

However, the Archbishop's response left Benjamin sorely disappointed.

"This is no ordinary curse. It is infused with immensely powerful demonic energy. As you know, countless people on this continent still languish under the thrall of demons. The Almighty has been ceaselessly battling this scourge, unable to spare the effort to lift your curse. And we, His humble servants, are even less capable of delivering you from such a malevolent hex."

"…"

Pretty words, indeed…

Undeterred, Benjamin pressed on. "But surely, there must be SOME way? I am a faithful servant of the Lord. I've no wish to be that wicked witch's pawn!"

The Archbishop replied, "Fret not. The Almighty's gaze is ever upon you. As long as that witch maintains contact, she is bound to expose a weakness sooner or later. When that time comes, we shall naturally intervene to purify her evil. You need not fear."

Realization dawned on Benjamin.

It wasn't that they COULDN'T break the curse, but that they WOULDN'T. The Church wanted to use the curse to keep him as bait to lure Michelle, so they put on this show of being powerless.

Sanctimonious hypocrites, cut from the same cloth as Michelle herself.

Viewed in that light, Michelle's scheme was surely banking on this. She knew the Church could lift the curse, but she also knew they would refuse to do so in order to use Benjamin to hunt her down. It was this mutual obstruction that allowed her to release Benjamin with such confidence.

Because she understood that, in the end, she still held all the cards.

A bunch of crafty old foxes, the lot of them!

At this point, Benjamin had thoroughly abandoned any hope of the Church breaking his curse. He'd have to find his own way.

"In that case, Your Grace, I must ask - have you any leads on this witch's whereabouts? My family is also enraged by her actions and wishes to join the hunt, to contribute to the Lord's cause."

Setting the curse aside for now, Benjamin circled back to his original reason for coming: to find Michelle's "old haunt", to dig up Annie's "treasures", and to take his first step in learning magic.

If this trip to the cathedral yielded nothing but the bad news of being cursed, he might just break down sobbing in the privy.

"Anything involving the power of the fallen is beyond your purview. For your own safety, it is best to leave such matters to the Almighty's servants." Even in refusal, the Archbishop's words remained watertight. Truly, a talent in its own right.

However, Benjamin wasn't discouraged by this response.

The Archbishop's rejection was well within his expectations, and he wasn't about to give up. Instead, he further embellished his reasoning.

"While it is true that none in my family can compare to the Church's holy knights, we do have our own channels among the common folk to ferret out hidden information. It is sure to be of some help. That witch is on high alert for the Lord's pursuers, but she may lower her guard around us ordinary people. Rest assured, Your Grace, I shall notify you posthaste if any news arises."

Benjamin's unwavering resolve seemed to give the Archbishop pause. After a moment's thought, the Archbishop finally nodded.

"Since your devotion to the Lord's will is so steadfast, then I shall accept in His stead."

Perhaps because he still needed to use Benjamin as bait to catch Michelle, the Archbishop appeared quite accommodating. Benjamin surmised that, from the Archbishop's perspective, throwing him a few inconsequential breadcrumbs might placate Benjamin and ensure his cooperation as the Church's lure for landing the big fish - Michelle herself.

The Archbishop certainly wouldn't divulge anything crucial. At most, he would share some outdated intel on her movements, tidbits that were unlikely to grant commoners any inroads to magic.

But from Benjamin's point of view…

"Magic, here I come!"

He could barely contain his glee, laughing uproariously in his heart.